"I will find you a thermos. You should take that with you," Mr Hassan says, nodding to the drink in my hand as he rises. I watch him shuffle into the kitchen, my gaze following his hunched frame as he moves through the dark. The cat in my lap pushes her face into my hand and I smile at the affection she gives so freely to a stranger. When I look up at Ashen, he's watching me. It feels like his thoughts are split between me and something far away in time.

What, I say without sound, my smile fading until it's faint, barely a trace on my lips. He looks both worried and angry, and I can't tell which one is worse. He just shakes his head and looks into the mint tea in his hands as though the broken leaves lingering at the base will tell him the future.

Imagine if we see an angel! I haven't seen one in millennia, I write, and tap my journal to draw his attention to my note.

"Yeah, that's probably a good thing. The less we see from that realm, the better," Ashen replies, leaning his arms on his knees.

Maybe I can kill one, I write, tapping my journal again. He raises a weary gaze and reads my note then pinches the bridge of his nose.

"That is a terrible idea."

No, seriously. Think about it. If I kill one, they're DEFINITELY not going to want me in there. Offer rescinded. 

"I can imagine it's only a matter of time before they find another reason to keep you out if that's what they really want. No point incurring the wrath of their realm in the meantime."

But hear me out, wouldn't killing an angel make me the most popular person EVER in the Shadow Realm? That doesn't sound so bad. 

"You've clearly not seen enough of the Shadow Realm to want to aspire to such heights," Ashen says. He downs the rest of his tea and sets the empty glass on a brass tray, then bends his head and lets go of a heavy lungful of air. I feel the curl of something unpleasant in my chest. Nerves. Concern. A fucking gigantic swirl of anxiety that feels like a whirlpool sucking me to the bottom of the sea.

I look over to the kitchen where Mr. Hassan is still rummaging in darkness. I feel like he's taking his time on purpose. He's trying to give us some space.

I start to write a note. But if I'm trapped in the Realm of Light, it says, but I can't finish it. I just can't make myself put the rest into ink. The confession I wish I could make twists like wire around my heart. Because it would have said I won't be able to see you. And those aren't feelings I think I should have, even if they're becoming impossible to deny. Even worse, I'm not sure they would be returned.

The apothecary's words ring through my mind like they're on a delay. Fear is like the wind and ancient creatures are always ready with a sail to catch it. Especially vampires. I think I get it now. Because I have an urge to take that motorcycle as far as it will carry me into the night.

I flip to a fresh page. Okay Reaper. Let's see what we see in Saqqara and decide what's next from there. 

I show Ashen my note and I place my pen and journal on the coffee table, rising with the cat in my arms. I hug her close to my chest and place her on the floor, then pick up my mug and the teapot and carry them into the kitchen. I help Mr Hassan clean up, and he warms my drink and places it into a thermos that was already waiting on the counter.

"Of all the creatures to walk the Earth, vampires are my favorite. But don't tell anyone I said that, I'm meant to be impartial," Mr. Hassan says with a wink, and we give one another a kiss on each cheek to say goodbye as we shake hands.

When I enter the living room, Ashen is standing with my notebook and pen in his hands. I pull them from his fingers and he takes the thermos instead. I give a faint smile of thanks before we head to the door, and then I turn to wave goodbye to the apothecary who watches as we pass over his threshold and into the night.

"I'll follow you this time," Ashen says. There's neither mirth nor anger in his voice and I don't nod or make any movement in reply. We are silent as we descend the stairs of the building that spiral toward the bustling pedestrian streets of Khan el-Khalili market. We pass shops with lanterns of colorful glass, perfumeries whose scents of sandalwood and lotus carry on the currents of air that flow between passersby.

After a few turns, we arrive at a cafe where patrons smoke apple-flavored tobacco in shishas and sip mint tea on the patio. Our bikes are parked a short distance from one another. Ashen follows me to mine. He watches as I slide the key into the ignition and close my hand around the front brake as I throw my leg over the seat. He places my thermos in the saddlebag and rises, but he grasps the handlebar and leans close, waiting until my gaze catches on his. I look at him with a question in my eyes.

"Don't lose me," he says, but he doesn't move away. I look at him for a long moment. My eyes roam from his, toward the tattoos that flow beneath his collar in sweeping black lines. His skin is radiant in the dim patio lanterns and the headlights on the street that flicker in the night.

When I meet his eyes again, they still watch mine. I can see the rich brown tones that seem to warm when he lets his secrets rise through the sediment of time. I nod once, but the stillness remains between us.

Ashen lets go of the bar. His hand lays warm against my cheek. My breath catches in my lungs as his thumb sweeps a slow path across my skin. The world around us seems to disappear with such a simple touch.

"If you're trapped in the Realm of Light, I will still find you," Ashen says. With one more brush of his skin across mine he pulls his hand away.

This time, when we drive through the night, I keep his lights close in the dark.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter 22

That's the fifth one. What the fuck, I write, flicking an intrepid brown scorpion away from my hip. It flies in an arc and pings against the base of the stone wall across from us then scurries away into the sand.

"You're cold. It's a big attraction for desert creatures who are about to face a day of unobstructed sun," Ashen replies.

The Reaper sits to my right, the journal between us. We're stationed on the edge of a limestone wall at the Serapeum where we can face the stepped pyramids, our feet dangling over the edge toward the tawny sand. The majority of the site lies to the Southeast, and the first lighter shades of blue color the sky in anticipation of dawn.

I get that, but still. Hard pass. 

Ashen flicks another away as it runs toward my leg. "The scorpion was a symbol of the goddess Serqet. She protected the bodies and viscera of the dead. I think it's kind of fitting that they like you."

Big bag of NOPE. 

I drain my white plastic cup of blood tea and Ashen refills it from the thermos as I tap my heels against the stone.

"Feeling better than this morning?" Ashen asks as we cast our gazes across the ancient stone monuments of kings and gods. From here, we can see much of Saqqara, though we don't know where we should be looking when it comes to portals to the Realm of Light.

Much better. I threw up in your shower, by the way. Sorry about that. But don't worry, I totally cleaned off your mansoap. 

"Yeah, I know. I heard you. I suppose it was to be expected. And I almost believe you."

I smile and we sit in silence for a moment as my legs swivel along the wall. The stars are slowly receding, only the brightest left to glimmer above us. I think about the last time I was in Cairo, and I wonder how long it's been since angels last passed through this land. I wonder how they'd even recognize it, the city sprawling ever further into the desert.